


this heart is a free ride (windshield notes)

by tmrs



Series: nice to meet you (I'm your other half) [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Crack, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 01:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6217576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmrs/pseuds/tmrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh great... Some rich guy who parks like an ass demanding punctuality from him. Mario groans. Fine! Does he think Mario can't do it? That he can't wake up at a decent hour and own that spot? That he's going to chicken out from this because he drives a 2005 two-door mini cooper?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wednesday

Mario regrets his decisions as soon the haziness is gone and his eyes focus on the digital alarm. Damn, he shouldn't have hit the snooze the last four times it went beeping. He was 28 minutes late and counting. There's no time for the bath that would, at least, help him to wake up so Mario picks up the first clean clothes within reach on the way to the bathroom. Trying to put both the jeans and the t-shirt on at the same time turns out to be a stupid idea once he finds himself falling in the bathtub, and thank God Marc-André was sharing a place with Bernd now or the scene of him trying to stand up on two feet again would be shared in the break room until everybody from his shift had it, and, probably before he would even notice, it would have numerous edited versions and montages playing on loop on every computer screen of the center as well.

He does the best that can be done with his hair already at the door, checking it one last time in the rearview mirror of the car before starting it. Mario makes a mental note that he should fill the tank at some point before the weekend, but now there's no time for that anyway. 

And of course, there's traffic.  _Of course_ , he completely forgets about the fact the staff parking lot is under renovation, only remembers it when he's almost there and has to make his way back to the one David said via text Benni was keeping for his car. Of course it is almost packed already, and of course he has to spend seven minutes mumbling every mantra he knows before finding a spot. Upon closer inspection, it becomes quite clear why such a nice place was unoccupied: a big black Mercedes Benz G Class was awfully parked next to it, or to describe it better: was invading it. 

“Newsflash, Mr…” checking for the plate Mario hums thinking. “Melon Humper 1036, I have the best parking skills in this whole town.”

If Mario could brag about anything in his life, that was one of the things - the other would be having pissed on a fly while it was in the air when he was ten years old, but not many people knew about that. He and the old mini cooper had gone through many things already so making it into the space was challenging, but not impossible. Mario celebrates doing finger guns at his reflection in the mirror. 

Before leaving using the passenger door, he grabs a piece of paper and a pen. Still pretty content about having succeeded, Mario decides to be half polite and half objective.

  


“ _good morning! i'm guessing parking isn't your forte since you took so much of the spot i'm currently in. i got a suggestion: what if you try using the. fucking. yellow. lines. as reference next time? you better not hit my car on the way out. thank you :)”_

  


Yeah, that would do. Now he had to walk all back to work.

 

-

 

“I'm going to kill you,” Mario manages to say after gulping some water, panting. “I'll catch my breath and then kill you.”

“What have I done this time?” David stops trying to throw a paper ball inside Mitchell’s cup, looking offended.

“A 20 minute walk? That's outrageous!”

“ _20?_ Benni makes the path in 10!”

“Benni has legs that are probably eleven centimeters longer than mine which cuts the time in half! That parking lot is shit.”

“You're just being dramatic. Also, you told me you wanted to lose some weight so...”

“Fuck yo-”

“Guys!” Thomas opens the door at once. “It's Waffle Wednesday, who do you think is going to win this time? I bet it’s going to be me so I'll stay here to make a big entrance once they call my name.”

Nobody tries to convince him otherwise. It wouldn't work anyway. Instead, all of them gather closer to the glass wall to watch Lahm gift the best customer service representative of the week with a crunchy waffle covered in honey. After motivational words half muffled by the old ceiling fans, Philipp tries to joke and fool people approximating the plate from their tables and pulling away with an “oops”.

“He's a dad right?” David suggests.

“Make him stop,” Mitchell wrinkles the nose. 

“C'mom, it's kinda funny” Thomas shrugs.

Thiago leans his face forward to rest his forehead against the cold surface next to Mario, receiving encouraging pats on the shoulder. The suspense ends when the dessert gets to Kramer's hands.

“What? Again?! Who is this guy sleeping with?”

It takes some time to Mario understand that Thiago's face all twisted wasn't a sign of a stroke, expressing excruciating agony or intestinal problems, but for him to shut up. Turning his head slowly in the direction where Müller is pointing not-so-discreetly, he can see Manuel Neuer, the boss himself, at the door frame. The contrast between the strength his big hand is making on the paper cup and the flushed color of his cheeks would be comical if wasn't so menacing.

“Why is nobody working? I want you all at your places _now_!”

Soon Mario gets the most comfortable he possibly can on that old rolling chair of the technical support section he works in, fixes the headset properly and takes a deep breath to accept the first call. Then, hell begins.

“Good morning! My name is Mario, how can I help you?”

“Something is wrong with the wireless routers I bought on the website,” a flat male voice replies, jumping the presentation.

“What's wrong with it sir?”

“It came with cables. The manual tells me I should plug it in the wall socket and that's absurd!”

“I'm sorry sir, but the manual is right because that's how the router is going to get electrical energy.”

“But I paid for _wireless_ stuff. Do you understand the concept of wireless? I'll break it down for you kid: wire equals _cable_ and less equal _minus._ Is it clear?”

“Yes, it is sir. However,” Mario takes a deep breath. “The model you purchased is called wireless because it doesn't require cables to connect from _your computer_ to _the router._ I'm afraid to tell you that's nothing wrong with the product itself.”

“This is unacceptable! I want a refund!” 

“Please wait in line a moment as I transfer you to the right section...”

“You better do that.”

“I will sir! Have a good day.” 

 

-

 

“Good morning... My name is Mario, how can I help you today?” 

“Hello, Marcel...”

“Is Mario actually, ma'am”

“Oh sorry! Yeah, I'm having a technical difficulty?”

“No problem!” the woman, having apologized, gives Mario hope that this would be a good call, makes him stop playing tic-tac-toe with himself and actually puts his hands on the keyboard. “Describe it to me and I'll do my very best to solve it for you.”

“Alright, last weekend I purchased this pen drive from the website to save some uhm, files from my university, but by accident deleted it from both my computer and the pen drive. Can you tell me if I turn my computer clock back a couple weeks the file will come back?”

“Ma'am… I'm sorry, but-”

“Don't give me this voice, c'mon, it has to work!”

“Unfortunately, that's not how-”

“Fine, I lied! Is not uni things, is my Harrison Ford photo collection and I _need_ it back ok? I thought I was over it, but I'm not ready to let go yet! You need to help me here! _Please!_ ”

Mario rolls the eyes while sinking on the chair as low he can get without losing the headset. “Have you checked the little trash can icon on top of the desktop screen already? Double click on it, right-click with the mouse above the file there and then pick restore”

“Oh. My. God!” she laughs for more seconds than would be considered normal. “Marcel, you are my hero!”

 

-

 

“Good afternoon. It's Mario speaking, there's some way I can help you?” with a brilliant reflex display Mario breaks his personal record on Fruit Ninja, barely noticing the lack of reply during a contained celebration. “Sorry, what? Hello? Are you there?”

“You have a nice voice Mario”

“Thank you, sir. I'm afraid I didn't understand how can I be useful...”

“That's fine, I haven't said yet. Would you like me to tell you?”

Mario has been single for too many months now and recognize the damp sounds of skin sliding against skin shamefully easily. It’s a tough realization knowing that if given a little to time focus on the background noises was something he'd like to do, he could probably tell even the brand of lube the guy is using. However, that's one of those things way too embarrassing to admit even to himself.

“I can do the best to help as long you have any technical problems with a product purchased at our online shop, sir.”

“How old are you Mario? I would say you're still young. Medium size, lean and brunet… Brown eyes maybe? Yeah...”

“This is your last chance before I discon-”

“You know what I would like? I would love to drag my ba-”

Mario presses the end call button and takes off the headset just to be sure. Finding a pen, he adds one trace on the notepad to show the guys later. The idea of turning this perverts-call into number of beer mugs at the end of the month was one of the most stupid slash brilliant ideas Thomas ever had.

 

-

 

Some would think the walk back to the parking lot wasn't that bad, but they'd be wrong. Mario whined each ten steps towards the place. He just needed to get back home, reheat the burritos in the microwave and watch some shitty TV program in his underwear only. At least, the place isn't that packed anymore and he finds the spot easily. Something on the windshield of the mini cooper surprises him once Mario steps closer enough, he realizes it's a paper folded in four.

  


“ _so i'm guessing my parking wasn't thaaaat bad since you managed to fit, right? lol seriously tho, i'll pay more attention tomorrow. please, keep this as a symbol of my sincere apologies :p”_

  


On the verse there's a colorful drawing made by a kid. So the Mercedes owner was a five year old.  _It would explain the bad parking_ , Mario thinks resentful. Taking a better look he can even find the weird head shapes somewhat cool, the pallet of shades used for coloring the sky had been a nice choice and the crooked smiles seemed to be the author’s trade mark. It wasn't really bad.

Right, so maybe Mario was smiling a bit on the way home, but just a little bit.


	2. Thursday

It’s stupid and Neuer will never, in a billion years, buy this as the holy truth it is, but the night before, Mario changed the clock settings instead of adjusting his alarm. This means that when he fell asleep at 11 pm the clock went 9 hours straight forward to mark 8 am so once he wakes up at the sound of the neighbor upstairs and checks the cellphone to find the digital numbers blinking 6:04 pm, it was actually 8:04 am. Or something like that. Mario had given up trying to situate himself in the time and space for that day after the first two seconds of it. He just jumps in and out of the shower and literally runs out of the apartment.

Mario regrets running when his legs protest about being overly required, clearly not used to two days of exercises in a row anymore. Maybe Dave was right about losing weight, maybe it was time to start a healthier life, Mario ponders on the way to the parking lot before remembering on Thursdays someone takes a bunch of bakery goodies to work, pretzels included. _Naaah_ , he concludes.

The parking lot had more free spaces than the day before, to Mario's surprise. Still, he feels the need to check where the old mini cooper occupied yesterday for a vacancy. There's a spot on that block indeed but is not exactly the same from the day before, because the ridiculous Mercedes is taking both his and Mario's spots.

Maneuvering the car to the closest free space next to it, he takes the pen and paper with him feeling personally challenged.

 

“ _the lines are made for you to park IN BETWEEN the closest two, not over them! if parking the expensive shit you drive is that hard, take a bus or buy something small that will most likely match the size of your penis”_

 

Mario's about to place it on the windshield when he notices the passenger window isn't completely closed. Good, he thinks, already five minutes into the walk towards his working place; chances are someone will think of something evil to do with that. Mario himself could think of some options. That's until he remembers the man has kids and nothing that could possibly put them in danger would be right or fair. Plus, the guy _is_ a dumbass, but some driving lessons could fix the problem and Mario _is_ angry but is not a bad person. So ignoring the hands of his watch reaching the number 9 as if they wanted to hug it and runs back to the parking lot cursing under his unsteady breath.

Putting the head inside the mini cooper, Mario finds tape on the glove compartment easier than he expected. Mario unfolds the note, does the best to stick the paper in a way it would cover-up most of the opening to at least hide the interior a bit. He grabs the pen to add something.

 

“ _ps: you also forgot to close this window completely so i'm sticking this here instead of using the windshield. be more careful with your shit next time. have a good day”_

 

Done. Now he had to do a Höwedes and sprint to work before Neuer notices he's not there yet.

 

-

 

It doesn't work. The eleven centimeters that are lacking on his legs makes a difference after all.

“Götze!” Dave finds him sucking air into his lungs behind the water dispenser and for some reason retracts the shoulder when Mario gestures for silence. “Have you heard the news?”

“What news?”

“Why does nobody checks that fucking group chat? Jeez...”

“Draxler found a box with crocodiles babies instead of cats this time and will be sent back home? Lahm is giving away a "vetoed of being scolded" pass? Today is the National Being-Late Day?”

“No, no and no. Ophelia _and_ Martha gave birth today... Müller's horses, you know?”

“ _Mares_ , David.” Mario drinks a whole cup of water in two gulps. “The right term is mares”

Dave waves him off. “Point is, Neuer made a quick reunion with our shift people and is not happy because Mother's Day is soon and because we had two men missing...”

“Thomas and..?” the other drops the hand on his shoulder. “Me. Shit! I shouldn't have come right? Do you think the bathroom excuse can work or… What's this face? Don't tell me he is…”

 _Fuck_ , Mario thinks before hearing a plastic cup being smashed ruthlessly behind him.

 

-

 

He should really start reading the signs a bit better if he wanted to survive this hell of a week. David ran away as soon Neuer focused the cold blue eyes on Mario leaving him to a harsh reprehension session right there next to the buzzing water dispenser. At the end of it, the boss orders Mario to take both his and Thomas calls making the required daily goal duplicate which would be impossible enough alone, but also means he would be helping not only with the technical problems of clients, but any others. This worries Mario because there's a reason for him being put on the technical section instead of sales, and that's because he sucks at persuading people.

Luck apparently strikes upon him for the first time because the first calls are all problems involving some minor errors, simple returns or fixable system mistakes, but when the clock shows midday the spell seems to break.

“Good afternoon! Here's Mario speaking, how can I help you?”

“Is it Giggle speaking?” a soft voice from an old woman reply after a cough.

An 'elderly person' and 'sales call' combo was fated to be a bad combination so Mario took a deep breath to prepare himself the best way possible. If he could solve this woman’s problem within the maximum of eight minutes that the company required, Neuer would have to be happy.

“No ma'am, this is Mario”

“I heard that the first time son, do you work for the Giggle thing there's inside the computer?”

“Oh… Google? No ma'am, this is a shopping online website customer service call center. Have you bough a product from us and need help with? Are you looking for something?”

“No, I've found one already” she coughs again. Mario can hear the noise of a package being ripped open and then loud chewing. “This throat tablets taste like a dick, ew. Sorry... you don't want to hear about a grandma with dick breath right?”

“That would be weird ma'am...”

“As I was saying... I wrote 'jug of milk' on Giggle and found the one I want but don't know how I can to get it send to me. It's so pretty… Turquoise! Will match my refrigerator.”

“I'm sure we can find it! Let me take a look on the one you would like to get.”

“There you go, I moved my head”

“Excuse me?”

“I moved my head out of the way, can you see the screen from there now?”

“Oh… I can see just fine ma'am, don't worry about it. Stay comfortable at your chair alright?” Accessing the homepage of the company website and typing 'turquoise jug of milk' turns out to be not that useful when you have fifty-two results. He has four minutes left to find the one. “Can you tell me what kind of jug of milk it's? Uhm, what is it made of or if it comes with something more?”

“How would I know? I haven't received it yet son. You are not very smart are you? I'm starting to doubt you can help me.”

“I'm sure I can ma'am… Do you see the price of the jug of milk?”

“Don't you know the price of your own products?” the chewing noises become sucking ones. “My grandson buys things online all the time. Maxing out the mom's credit card to expand his collection of football cards, can you believe it? All to turn moth’s food in the future when hair starts growing on his balls… Do you need the credit card number now? I need to pee.”

Mario wonders if it should be marked as a pervert-call because it’s starting to sound like a weird one. A click on the line means Holger, Thomas’ direct supervision, joined the call to check why the fuck it was taking so long. This couldn't be good. Time was ticking.

“Not yet ma'am. We need to find the jug first. What about the format? Can you describe it to me in details?”

“Ugh, let me get my glasses then...”

Standing up without pulling the headset cord Mario gestures to Holger to give him some more time because worse than taking ages to solve a problem is not solving it at all. He wanted to prove that time wasn't wasted. It would be worth it if at least he could make this sell.

Badstuber nods towards Neuer door. Mario makes praying hands. Badstuber throws the arms up on an exaggerated shrug and leaves the line.

“Are you there?”

“Yes ma'am,” he fumbles until the fingers find the chair so he can reposition himself feeling determined. “Ready to find this jug of milk?”

“I've been ready from the start son! Well, here it says: Hosley Clear Glass Vase fo-”

“Wait a minute, did you said vase?” Mario let his forehead hit the table with a thud. “Ma'am, were you looking for a vase all this time?”

“Would I serve milk on a vase of flowers? I'm not stupid, kid! Here it says, and you better pay attention this time: Hosley Clear Glass Vase, 8.6' high, clear glass… For decorative… Decorative use only… Ideal to… Floral arrangement?”

“I'm sorry about it ma'am…”

“It's okay son,” A moment passes where he can hear the wet pop's of the woman sucking the fingers and more chewing. “I'm sure it will match my refrigerator way better from the table”

“Are you still buying anyway?!!”

“Why not? Such a pretty vase…”

After saying farewell and ending Mrs. Krüger’s call, Mario decides it’s only fair to go check for some bakery goodies and celebrate his first ever sell. Holger gives him a thumbs up from his seat.

The break room is empty when he arrives so that's plenty of time to pick the two most good looking pretzels left in the box before settling the small plate next to a cup of Mitchell's famous mango juice. He's pulling his cellphone out of his pocket to play some Fruit Ninja when a paper falls out of it instead. The frown on Mario's forehead eases once he unfolds it to find the drawing left on the mini cooper yesterday and for the first time, he pays proper attention.

It shows three stick men. Two actually. The third one is a girl judging by the triangle that should be made to look like a dress, above her hair there's an “m”. The other two are really similar except one has a yellow hair pointing down on the sides and the middle turned upwards while the other's hair is darker and forms what seems to be a wave tilted to the right. There's an “n” hovering the first one and another “m” hovering the second.

The sound of a bowl of cheddar being pushed in his direction wakes him from the analysis. Benni smiles from behind the border of his marvel mug before taking a sip of the drink, going back to get distracted on his cell-phone. Mario has an idea. Since Benni was such a nerd, comics aficionado and whatever else, he could decode the drawing to kill a huge curiosity that suddenly started to consume him.

“Hey Benni,” he asks sinking the piece of pretzel into the cheese. “Who do you think is the adult here?”

The other picks up the paper for a closer inspection and hums.

“It’s hard to say, they’re all the same size and there's no clear pattern on the head shapes. Uhm, it could be the one in the middle indicating a kid on each side, but they could also be placed by age making the adult jump to the end. Sorry man,” he handles the drawing back to Mario. “I think it’s safe to believe they have that _extremely_ charming kind of smile that you can't quite say no to, so… Good luck with that.”

 

-

 

While Mario was logging off of the computer, Holger walked up to him for a handshake, said he was going to talk with Neuer on Mario's behalf, because even if the amount of calls answered wasn't the enough to cover their daily goals, it turned up to be better than expected. Mario accepts it as a compliment because it was way better the he himself was expecting. Before leaving, Holger advises him he should be okay as long he doesn't show up late again tomorrow.

Mario makes sure to synchronize the cell-phone clock with the building lobby and set the alarm still inside company limits with the sun still shining and his mind still awake, which makes the path back to the parking lot less stressful. He almost forgets about the windshield notes going on between him and the Mercedes owner, until he finds another paper tucked under the wiper.

 

“ _bro, you're hilarious xD really touches my heart how you balance the offenses to my guiltless penis, covering my window and wishing me a good day at the end lol thank you by the way, it was genuinely kind of you. that's why i have a suggestion. my suggestion is: if you are sooo pissed and want this spot sooo much, why don't you try to arrive earlier tomorrow and get the spot you want? :)”_

 

Oh great... Some rich guy who parks like an ass demanding punctuality from him. Mario groans. Fine! Does he think Mario can't do it? That he can't wake up at a decent hour and _own_ that spot? That he's going to chicken out from this because he drives a 2005 two-door mini cooper? So he better watch it because tomorrow Mario is going to show him how to park like a fucking pro.


	3. Friday

He doesn't even  _need_ an alarm clock today. When the cell-phone starts beeping Mario's already showered, dressed in ironed clothes and a cup of hot milk in hand – he couldn't find coffee anywhere so this would have to do. His hair even looks nice! It was Friday, his shift would be extended because of the holiday proximity which would be the perfect opportunity to make up for being late the other days this week and he was feeling confident about achieving all he had planned.

The traffic doesn't bother him either, instead, he uses the time stopped in a big line of cars to catch up with all the group messages that were quite restless since Thomas shared some cool pictures of the new foals Skypuddle and Blingbling. Clicking on the audio file fills the car with Thiago singing something that starts with  _“I know when the horseline bling...”_ but ends with nothing more than thunderous laughs and undefined words. What follows is a bunch of different emojis and, fuck if Mario knows how they managed to do it so fast, a vine of Drake dancing to Thiago’s version of the song while wearing a horse mask.

Mario barely recognizes the parking lot once he's there. With genuine happiness in his heart, he maneuvers to the usual spot perfectly without that Mercedes to decide how much space he would have for doing it. Peeking over the window to find the mini cooper perfectly aligned to the parallel yellow stripes is incredibly satisfying. Now, all he had to do was wait because he had decided last night that all this wouldn't be fun if he leaves without seeing the amazed face of recognition on his fellow parking lot colleague. Sinking in the seat for comfort and clicking on the Fruit Ninja app, Mario picks the zen mode just to get distracted cutting whatever is thrown at him. There goes a pineapple up:  _zap_ . Some oranges:  _zap, zap, zap_ . Melons and a coconut:  _zap, zap, zap, zZza-_

The strong vibration of the cell-phone against Mario's crotch wakes him up with a jolt and he fumbles with it until the screen blinks "battery low" a couple of times like the last breaths.  _Shit_ , he thinks after checking the watch. Then it comes to mind that he could pay a fucking fine, but that would only be possible if he still had a job. So to the hell with it, Mario's going to drive to work and park on top of that traffic sign if that what it takes to keep being employed. He sticks the key in the ignition, turns it and nothing happens. Mario curses in every language he knows how to curse and still  _nothing_ .

“No, no, no. No! Don't do this to me, please! After all we have been through, you can't jus-”

A knock at his the window makes Mario jump in surprise. Raising the eyes from the car panel, he finds a guy he had never seen before smiling at him. He rolls the glass down.

“So, no notes of endearment for me today?”

“Excuse me?” he raises the eyebrows. “Do I even know you?”

“Since we have been accidental pen-pals for the last few days I guess we can say that...”

No! He should have noticed quicker giving the fact a half smirk had been plastered on the guys face since their eyes met, the quiff forming a wave tilted to the right side. Also, what idiot would wear a leather jacket when it's not even cold? Of course, it was him.

“Melon Humper 1036...”

“ _Melon Humper_?” he frowns. “Really? That's equally offensive _and_ ridiculous. My name is Marco actually. It's not my fault you are a control freak with double personality.”

“I would love to stay and prove you're wrong, but because you have been an idiot and forced me to arrive earlier I completely forgot to fill my tank and I'll lose my shitty job if don't start running my ass to work within the next minutes okay?” Mario sucks the breath in noisily when he's done venting.

“The fact you're procrastinating has nothing to do with me, but fine… Let me repay you a favor and help you this time.”

“How would you do that?”

Marco shrugs as if it was obvious. “I'll give you a ride, where is it?”

“That huge campus of gray unmarked buildings 20 minutes from here, but I'm not sure if that's...” 

“C'mom, I'm trying to be nice and you are the one being a jerk now... That's actually 10 minutes from here.”

“No, i _t's not_!”

“Do you want to keep the job or not?”

_Fuck… Melon Humper guy is right_ , Mario thinks while stepping out of the car to stand by his side. Marco's some inches taller than him and God help him, he looks even better this close. It makes Mario suddenly awfully self-conscious so he starts looking around for the Mercedes and fixing his hair and clothes at the same time.

“Uhm, where's your car?”

“Oh, that's my dad's. He just retired and went a bit crazy with the car choice. He swears that he was only thinking about having space and comfort for the kids… Thinks he fools me.” Marco laughs and shakes the head. “I'm riding my motorcycle today.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? No way I'm going with you on this _thing._ ”

“It's not a _thing..._ ” Marco pats the hand grip with proud. “It's a Harley Davidson street 750”

Mario shakes his head while running a hand through his hair, not believing how fucked up this week has been and how comical it was that his future, at least for a short time, was in the hands of someone who didn't even seem to understand the concept of parallel lines. 

Marco punches his arms lightly.

“Let's go, time is passing...” he smiles again, a delightfully _crooked_ smile, and Mario finds out Benni is right, he couldn't say no to that. He takes the helmet from the seat and shoves it angrily on his head, to the other guy’s amusement. 

“I thought no one could put that on backwards, guess I was wrong. You have ridden one of these, right?”

“Can you tell?”

Marco fixes the straps under his chin and adjusts the visor before doi climbing on the bike to turn it on, the engine roaring underneath him like a big feline. Mario gulps before joining him, feeling ridiculously naive . He checks his watch and whines.

“Do you think we can make it in time?”

Mario can see the green eyes sparkling through the plastic visor.

“I can make it there in five, just make sure you hold on tight”

He does hold on for dear life, his fingers curled on the leather jacket and face probably a little too close to Marco's, because the helmets hit each other every once in a while – and Mario learns that when you ride and have so much air in your face, it's quite hard to breathe. His knees are probably pressing the other's too hard as he tries to keep it closed, sincerely afraid if his sneakers slipping from the pedals. Mario's amazed how Marco hasn't kicked him off yet because it should be hard to drive a two-wheeled thing with a sack of potatoes behind you. At least, Marco smells really,  _really_ good and controls that motorcycle so naturally it makes Mario feel slightly guilty for calling him all those bad things. Just slightly.

Turns out Marco can't be accused of not being a man who keeps his promises. He does make the path in five minutes and after Mario pokes his side to point out the building they stop right at the gate entrance. Climbing out he can still feel the adrenaline running in his veins, even as his fingers release the helmet straps to take it off.

“See? Wasn't that bad...” Marco does the same and pulls the loose locks of auburn hair back to the quiff. “You liked.”

“No, I did _not_ ”

“Well, you are smiling Stubborn Chipmunk 3602”

Mario squints his eyes and tosses the helmet back to him.

“It's Mario... Thank you for the ride by the way”.

 

-

 

The boss receives him with raised eyebrows of surprise after a quick check of his watch. With many minutes to spare, Mario leaves Neuer's office and heads towards his computer with this head still attached to his shoulders. Holger blinks at him from the supervisor’s desk and he replies with gun fingers in celebration. Judging by the loud chatting on that block of cubicles, Thomas Müller is probably back and Mario swears he can see The Horseline Bling vine playing on loop on Lahm's screen when he passes behind him. 

Mario makes a quick stop on Dave's empty space, opens a new file and types in capital letters “ _WHO'S LATE NOW?”_ before leaving. With headsets on and a comfortable position in his chair, he takes the first call.

  
“Good morning! This is Mario speaking, how can I help you?”

“Greetings. This is Lina. I have acquired a computer from the website a day before yesterday and would be happy to know how to use a compact disk on it, if possible”

“Sure ma'am, do you recognize the CPU?”

“The rectangular cabinet with the power buttons? Yes, I do. How should I proceed?”

“On the top of it, the right side, can you spot a small button? Just press it”

“Done, but I am afraid something is not right because it do not solve my problem at all. I already use this on the daily basis...”

“But ma'am, that's where you should put your CD”

“Here? Do you mean this is not a cup tray?!”

 

-

 

Thiago brings him a super mug of coffee with a post-it sticker on the handle that reads  _“waffle voucher”_ above an illustration of a waffle, that is most likely made by Benni, some point around 4 pm. There's still a couple of hours to go until the end of the day, but Mario was caught on a wave of calls from people with problems that are actually possible to solve and didn't want to stop right now. He was feeling rather useful, helpful and… How could he describe? Uhm, full of energy. Jittery as if the motorcycle ride had been only minutes ago instead of hours. 

 

-

 

“Good morning! I'm Mario, how can I help you today?”

“Yo, yo, yo Mario! Tobias here.”

“Sup! What can I do for you?”

“This website of yours man, it won't accept any passwords I came up with.”

“Are you making sure to type at least eight characters with letters and numbers, sir?”

“What do you mean?”

“The new password has to be letters and numbers and all of them add up to eight or more. It can have four of each or six letters and two numbers or any way you'd like.”

“That's too much to make up man! I'll need to remember this.”

“Yes sir, maybe you should pick a number th-”

“Ok, the year mama was born. You said I need a word tho? Help me out on this.”

“Uhm,” Mario adds another paper clip on top of the pile that was already reaching the power button on his monitor. “What's your favorite… I don't know, food?”

“Easy! Opa's bagels” Tobias cheers on the other side of the line and the sound of typing can be heard next. “Let me try then, opasbagle69”

“Oh God… Okay, that's...” the pile crashes and paper clips fly everywhere. Mario covers the mouth and nose to muffle a laugh until a heavy breathing sound starts to worry him. “Tobias, sir?”

“I don't have a pencil with me so I'm steaming the window to write, thanks for the help!”

“No problem man, no problem”

 

-

 

At the end of the working day, Mario runs with David and Mitchell to catch the lift that almost leaves without them if it wasn't for someone already inside holding the door. This person turns out to be the boss itself. 

“Nice work today guys.” To everyone’s surprise, he seems way more relaxed and easygoing. “Especially you Götze. Whatever you used as alarm clock to get you here in time it's worth keeping.”

“Thank you, boss”

“Please, use my name, the shift is over.”

Arriving at the lobby they part ways and Mario has to put in a big effort to call him “Manuel” instead of boss but manages after stuttering a bit and wins a big thumbs up from the other. Mitchell can't stop laughing and mimics him until they arrive at the entrance and something steals his attention.

“Wow,” he whistles. “Now that's a nice motorcycle.”

Turning around to see what that was about is a mistake, Mario realizes soon and not soon enough, given the fact he recognizes rather quickly both the motorcycle  _and_ the guy standing next to it. 

“What's he doing here?”

“Do you know him?” Dave's face lights with mischief. “Seems like little Mario here got himself an _alarm cock,_ get it?”

“Shut the fuck up! Why do you have to be so embarrassing?” They can hear the horn beep. “Talk to you guys later ok?”

Mario doesn't stay to hear a reply and tries not to think about how many fucking messages the group chat will have by tomorrow. Better not turn the phone for another hundred years. 

“What are you doing here?!” 

“I was around and then I remembered you would probably need a ride back too.” Marco shrugs trying to look innocent and fails.

“On this thing?”

“It's _not_ a thing”

“I can call a cab” Mario cross the arms trying to sound confident and inflexible. He fails.

“Or you can stop being a dumbass and just accept my offer! C'mom, how was work? You had a good day?”

“It was a great day” he relents. “Thanks again for helping me”

“That was nothing… I think we should grab some beers to celebrate.”

“And then you will take me home drunk on a two-wheeled vehicle? Not the best idea”

“Fine! We can grab some beers at my home then.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Technically, I'm asking you in.”

Marco flashes that crooked smile and extends the helmet towards Mario as an open invitation.  _God help me_ , Mario thinks while taking it from his hand and jumping the curb to join him for another ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it!   
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments on this fic! Seeing all of your names on the bottom of the page makes me incredibly happy, I'm not kidding, it really does. Hope all the silliness here make you give at least one good laugh ^.^ As always, thank you Khalehla for being my beta and helping me with this <3  
> Oh, tell me your fave part! I would love to know xx


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